


Battling the urges, feeling the scars

by SimplyyCallum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Bottom Surgery, Foreplay, HRT, Husbands, Kinks, LGBT, M/M, Scars, Stilinski-Hale, Suggestive, Testosterone, Trans!Stiles, Transgender, Transphobia, hormone replacement therapy, lgbtq+, sterek, teen wolf alt universe, top surgery, trans!allison, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyyCallum/pseuds/SimplyyCallum
Summary: TW / please read carefully and look after yourself and your mental health. There is mention of self harm, anxiety and depression as well as gender dysphoria.What if Stiles wasn't just a normal, hyperactive kid with ADHD. What if he moved to Beacon Hills to start off new, with a secret who only his neighbour and best friend knew about. This is Stiles story, where he learns how to live his most authentic self.





	Battling the urges, feeling the scars

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been written at the request of a friend. Trans!Stiles was an interesting character and one I plan on developing and writing more about. 
> 
> This story was a base line for those developments, which is why the story seems to have no little bumps in the road. I understand that this is not every Transgender persons experience, that being trans isn't easy and that this story has displaced the easy route which is unrealistic.
> 
> For my fellow trans readers, or LGBTQ+ readers, please know that you are not alone. I am one of you, I understand the every day struggle, and I plan on writing more within fandoms and with original works to display the struggles and get our stories out there. 
> 
> We deserve a voice, we deserve equality and we deserve to be loved and accepted just the same. I hope you all find yourselves, and please know that if you are struggling don't be afraid to message me for some advice or help.

Stiles is different. He isn’t like the other kids, not that they know about it. Or at least they didn’t. Stiles has ADHD, he takes tablets to help keep him focused and calmed. He has nightmares of his dad screaming at him about what a little ‘hyperactive little bastard’ he can be, more so now that his mother is gone. 

Stiles’ mother left when he was 5. She couldn’t cope with her little girl telling everyone she was a little boy. Claudia was traumatised, waking up to her baby girl crying about being ‘mistaken’ for a girl at school, always being dragged into the little boy’s clothes section by her baby girl. The last straw was when the doctor diagnosed Stiles’ with ADHD and gender dysphoria, John having insisted they take the child in. 

John insisted they move to the town Stiles grew up in, a job came up and John took it. Claudia didn’t want to, she basically disowned Stiles – refused to let her daughter be her son, and told John that if he lets their child ruin themselves then the marriage is over and they are dead to her. 

Stiles luckily doesn’t remember much of his mother, his dad always told him she got sick and died – it was always better than the truth – and he would tell Stiles that he couldn’t stand living in the same house as before when they were happy.

Stiles is that crazy kid with a supposedly dead mother and ADHD. But everything is so much more complicated and worse for Stiles.

Stiles can’t help but feel like everyone is always staring, that they’ll always find out the truth. The reason why he is still growing out of his baby face pre-pubescent phase, and why he never takes his shirt off – even in the swimming pool during mandatory swimming classes.

Occasionally, it all gets too much for Stiles and he can’t cope. He becomes overwhelmed with all the dark thoughts and everything else. 

Just like today. 

Stiles is minding his business when a group of school kids start laughing, they aren’t even laughing at him, but the voices and the laughter gets to him. Stiles ADHD making everything hyper focused on everything which is okay, but making him feel like everything is going wrong. 

He can’t help himself if he stays in school, he knows that, and the panic rising in his chest and the lump in his throat simply confirms it. He knows he has to go. It’s almost the end of school anyway, and by the time he makes it home it’ll be the end of the school day so what will he actually be missing? 

That is all the confirmation he needs for his anxiety to let him cough and jump up, allow him to move quickly, first just briskly walking away from Scott – his supposed best friend, who actually knows nothing about him.

“Stiles! Wait up man, hold up!”

Scott is yelling, Stiles knows he is, but to him Scott’s words are barely punching through the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins within, the distant and strange vices calling him out- pointing out everything which is wrong, which needs to change.

Stiles is running, he is running to his jeep, Stiles can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t remember how to talk, how to walk, how to breathe.

Stiles wants his escape, he wants his safe haven.

Scared. Alone. Tears threatening to spill over as he turns the ignition of his jeep, barely hearing the engine tick over before he tears out of the car park. Tears free falling when he finally pushes through the door of his house and into his bedroom.

He is safe now, finally in his room, his sacred place his safe haven. 

The bathroom.

He needs the bathroom, he needs the security of his en-suite. He needs his escape. He needs his blades.

Sluggishly, his top comes off – revealing his tightly binded chest, his reason for the half full lungs and every painful intake of breath. His bandages comes off, unable to buy a binder every day is a battle of ace bandages and tape. The scars says it all, the ones which weren’t done on purpose, Stiles is struggling with his body, his chest is lumpy and large and damaged from the years of prevention.   
Stiles can’t even look in the mirror, the reflection of his body before him repulses him, makes him want to throw up, cry and mutilate himself just to feel better. The cold air hits his bare chest and makes his fresh scars sting, Stiles barely even notices it. 

The fresh cool blade is just brushing against the skin when he hears a knock on his bedroom window. Probably Scott again. 

“Stiles?” a brooding, deep voice queries. 

“Fuck!” Stiles mutters, scrambling to hide his actions and cover his chest again. It definitely isn’t Scott. Chest lopsidedly covered again, he speaks louder this time, “Yeah man? What’s up?” 

The sliding of the window, the thump of a body climbing in like they know they’re way around, the sound of the careful breath behind the bathroom door and the soft knock, it all has Stiles breathing deeply, worried even more about his chest, and then forgetting all the dysphoria briefly at the few simple words which pass through the wooden barrier between the two men. 

“Stiles? Everything okay? Let me in please, I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Derek?” Stiles choked out, tears flooding his throat as he crumbles to the floor in a heap of a desperate and dysphoric mess.

Vulnerable, wet from his tears and blood, Stiles lays sobbing on the floor when his neighbour walks through his en-suite door. 

“Oh Sti,” Derek whispers, gone with the brooding and deep voice, replaced with a soothing and soft tone. Stiles sobs harder.

Derek begins cleaning up the blood off of Stiles bare torso, too many times has he found this poor boy covered in blood and breaking down. Stiles hardly notices when Derek starts to unwrap his chest, careful to keep his eyes distant and directly above the area which causes so many problems for Stiles.   
The cuts are sore, Derek can tell, some are bleeding, others are red raw and stretched. Once Derek has him cleaned up he carefully gathers Stiles things can gets him dressed again, dragging him into his bedroom and getting him gathered in his safety net of his oversized PJs and massive duvet. 

“I have a present for you Sti,” Derek whispers, kissing Stiles forehead. 

“Yeah Der?” Stiles croaks, his voice breaking, thick with sleep and tears.

“Yeah Stiles, I was going to show you but I got you a proper binder man. It’ll be safer than those bandages you use, but you got to try and stop cutting please man. You keep damaging your body, it’ll ruin your surgery results.”

Stiles starts crying again, this time happy tears. For once he feel accepted, loved, and wanted by someone who isn’t obligated to like his dad. Derek is his best friend, his neighbour and the only one who knows, the only one who cares.

Stiles is still crying when he manages to sit up and pull on the cool black binder Derek had bought him. The view in his bedroom mirror, the flatness and the comfortable fit, everything about it just made Stiles feel complete, made him feel happy in himself, like he had a reason to live just a little bit longer. The ability to breathe just a little deeper, a little harsher, before it starts to hurt. Everything about his new binder that his best friend bought him just felt right. Stiles collapses into Derek’s arms in happiness, in tears and the love in the room is as radiant as the sunset light beaming through the window that night. 

Every night Derek does this, he crawls into Stiles’ window to hold him, to let him be himself and talk to someone about everything he is dealing with. Stiles forgets he is any different when he is with Derek, he can freely talk about his dysphoria, his fears about figuring out how to afford starting testosterone and paying for top surgery, and just silly things like how no one will ever love him because he is trans and because he has ADHD.

Stiles does the same for Derek, allowing him to freely talk about high school and college worries, about how his parents want him to go to college and major in sports – particularly basketball – but Derek wants to focus on his drawings, or even enter the world of psychology and become a therapist.   
The two boys comfort one another, Stiles coming from a poorer and struggling family, but living next to Derek who belongs to the richest family in the county, let alone the town. They had been doing this since Derek had met Stiles, that first day Stiles moved in. The house had belonged to John’s father, who had sadly passed a few years before Stiles was born, John had been left it in the will, and with potential medical bills to pay John couldn’t afford rent or a mortgage on a house as well as bills and school for his child, no his son.

The two had become inseparable when they were at home, but the small two year gap in age had meant most of the town didn’t even realise the two knew each other. Every night for the past three months Derek had spent the night in Stiles bed, comforting the small boy as his body had continued to grow and develop wrongly whilst all of Stiles’ school friends were become young adults.

Every night had been a battle to keep Stiles away from a blade or some tablets, his father unaware of the damage being caused to his son but his son’s mental health and dissociation with the body he had been born in due to the heavy work load to provide for Stiles.

It takes a week of straight cutting and hurting himself for Stiles to beg Derek to just let him end his life, to ask for Derek’s forgiveness and love and acceptance in his last moments. It was at the point Derek knew that he had to help Stiles with more than just words and emotional support – hence the binder for a safer binding. Derek was in love with his best friend, with his neighbour, and Stiles was clearly in love with him too. They were both so afraid of what everything meant and the timing was just completely wrong so they both ignored the feelings – until one day.

Stiles was having a particularly bad week, he was almost 50 days clean of any kind of self-harm and it was getting harder but easier at the same time. The urges came few and distant, but when they did they hit hard and Stiles would sometimes need Derek to hold him down and keep his mind occupied.   
Stiles was screaming for Derek to just help ease his mind, tears were streaming down his face and his dysphoria and depression was hitting all-time highs – or lows? – and Stiles just wanted everything to stop. Everything Derek would normally try just wasn’t working, and so this time he reached down and kissed the boy firmly on the lips and confessed his love. He then followed it up with an apology for ruining their friendship and the crude timing but Stiles simply responded with pulling off Derek’s top and continuing to make out with him.

It’s almost a week later when Derek surprises Stiles and his dad at dinner. A pure white envelope in his hand which teases the pair all evening. The dinner goes smoothly despite the pure anxiety and excitement in the air. When all the pizza has been consumed Derek finally sits the pair down.

“So, I may have messed around a little bit, and John please don’t be mad at me for doing this, but I’ve changed your medical insurance. Stiles, the new insurance will cover your hormone replacement therapy. You’ll have to pay about $50 a year to cover the doctors’ appointments for your injections. I also set up an appointment for you, to speak to a doctor about getting started as soon as possible.” Derek informs the pair, his smile infiltrating the words as his speaks.

Stiles is ecstatic, John is crying happy tears for his son. The pair jump out of their seats to hug Derek, Stiles kissing his friend attentively on the cheek. 

When the two have eventually calmed down, Derek talks them through the rest of the details, explaining how he did it and why he felt it was necessary. He neglected to mention that the insurance was almost three times more expensive than the previous insurance, having already set up a payment plan with the insurance company which allows himself to pay for John and Stiles’ insurance and for them to pay the same amount as before back to him. 

A few days later Stiles, John and Derek were rocking up to the doctor Derek had set up the appointment with, just outside of town and on the other side of Beacon County. Derek filled out the insurance paperwork for the pair, both too anxious about the situation before them. This very appointment would determine whether Stiles was allowed to finally start his life as his authentic self. 

The doctor called them in, a Dr Argent, who welcomed them both warmly and fully respected both Stiles and John. The doctor was already aware of the situation and didn’t bother with Stiles birth name at all, instead showing the form to John and asking him to confirm that this was in fact his son’s birth name. 

“Stiles, can I call you Stiles or would you prefer Mr Stilinski?” Dr Argent began.

“Stiles is fine, thank you Dr Argent.” Stiles murmured, anxiety clear in his voice.

“So I’m Doctor Chris Argent, but you can call be Chris. And I’ve been informed of the situation, you are transgender, correct?” Argent paused for a nod form Stiles, “and you were diagnosed from a therapist with gender dysphoria when you were, 6?” Again Stiles nodded.

“Okay great, So like I said I am Chris, and I’m essentially going to assess you and make sure everything is medically A-Okay for you to start testosterone, how does that sound?”   
This time a massive smile spread across Stiles face.

“Okay, so here in the state we work one of two ways for HRT. First you can either get diagnosed and a letter from a therapist to say you are ready for hormones. Second you can go through informed-consent which basically means you fill out a crap load of paperwork saying you fully know the risk of taking HRT and still wish to go ahead. The second option is what we will be going with, purely because you have your diagnosis by you don’t have a letter confirming your mental health. However, your insurance will still cover your treatment due to your diagnosis. Okay, I know that is a lot of information but is everything clear?” Chris informs the pair, talking briskly but slowly enough for the information to be clear and easily comprehendible. 

Stiles and John ask a few questions and the medical examination is undertaken, before the pair know it Stiles is singing away his life and getting shown how to self-inject his testosterone before receiving his first shot right there. A de-dutiable fee of $50s was paid and Stiles was officially on testosterone and undergoing HRT.

Before letting Stiles leave Chris hands him a card.

“This is the number and address of a somewhat local LGBTQ+ support group, I think you would benefit greatly from attending once a month. My daughter also attends, she is transgender too, her name is Allison. I think you would really enjoy spending time and talking to some people who truly understand what it is like dealing with some of the stuff you have to. It was great meeting you Stiles, book your next appointment at the front desk please and we’ll get your levels checked and sort out your dose. See you in three weeks!” Chris informs Stiles, smiling wide and parting with a strong handshake.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile the whole journey home, and before bed that night with Derek lying beside him he simply turned to his boyfriend and asked, “has my voice changed yet?” with a goofy Stiles grin.

5 years later;

Stiles pulls off his top, momentarily breaking away from Derek’s warm and wet lips. Derek’s hand run all over his husband’s body, landing firmly on his man’s desirable ass. His hands cupping his partner’s fine piece of ass, causing Stiles to gasp and moan at the same time, parting his lips for Derek’s hot, moist tongue to slip in and explore the mouth which is ever-so perfectly mapped out.   
Stiles hands travel down Derek’s perfectly chiselled body and into his jeans, fiddling with the buttons until they pop open, allowing for his bulge to fall freely from the skinny jeans which keep it trapped during the day. 

Derek’s hands find Stiles scars, perfect arches under the peck bones which are still red but faded. His lips find their way down to the pure perfection that is all the battle scars on Stiles body who made him who he is today. 

Stiles and Derek’s bedroom is filled with moans, gasps and wet noises all throughout the night, screams of pleasure and pain mixed together. 

When the alarm sounds the next morning the clothes from the antics the previous night are still scattered across the living room floor, the staircase and their bedroom. Derek groans at the alarm, opening his eyes slightly and letting them adjust to the light shining into the bedroom. The cooling spot beside him in the bed tells him his husband only recently got up, that and the smell of bacon wafting up the house.

“Stiles, shot day babe!” Derek yells, his voice stick thick with sleep and sex. He reaches up to grab the kit from the medicine cupboard after he is finished in the bathroom, taking it down with him for his husband.

Derek sits calmly with his morning coffee, ever so kindly prepared by his husband, as he watches Stiles remain as still as ever whilst he fills his syringe up with testosterone before slowly and carefully injecting it into his leg.

Derek is never more in love with everything Stiles is and everything Stiles has become then on shot days, when Stiles becomes so calm and collected and even with his ADHD is able to remain still and focused for the whole 5 minutes it takes every week. The morning routine something the both of them love. 

5 minutes of peace before a day of crazy. 

Coffee drank, testosterone injected and breakfast consumed, the two husbands can start their crazy days. Derek an architect and Stiles a author, the two make good money from the creative arts, both living in a beautifully designed house just on the edge of Beacon County.

Today, today was different though. Today was Stiles 2 year post top surgery date, and his consultation for bottom surgery and the two were absolutely anxious about it. Little Isaac completely oblivious to his parents fussing as he nibbles of his toothing toys. 

The two husbands and their little 10 month year old baby boy, who had been carried by their dear friend and family member Lydia, headed out the door just past 9am. Only half an hour later than they needed to leave, but hey, what’s a young family gonna do when the baby wants cuddles.

The consultation goes as smoothly as it possibly can, the decision made, Stiles would be having a metoidioplasty, not wishing for the huge scars and complications which are often prone to the other surgery available. Stiles was overjoyed with the outcome, his tiny little T dick would finally become a micro-penis and he would be considered fully male in the eyes of the state. 

His journey, having only started medically 6 years before, was finally coming to a steady straight rather than a hilly challenge. He could finally be happy with himself, with his family and with his life, whilst living his most authentic self – inside and out.

And Stiles, Derek and little Isaac couldn’t be happier. Especially with little Hope on the way too


End file.
